


Any Way The Wind Blows

by TrekBec82



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 23:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekBec82/pseuds/TrekBec82
Summary: A collection of vignettes skipping back and forth through the years.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Any Way The Wind Blows

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to those lovely people who gave the original posting of this work kudos - there were formatting issues during editing which I could not resolve, so I decided to delete and post again.
> 
> Once again I have a soundtrack - which in this case existed before the story itself was written. The full playlist is available on [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jY9dQ8hUi7U&list=PLXBALksKVRE0hBdj-23zWQw2KPOKCnnkd).
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on Tumblr - where I share loads of Good Omens posts and a sprinkling of other things - you can do so at [TrekBec82](http://trekbec82.tumblr.com/).

**January**  
_3rd January 2004 - Tolkien Day_

Aziraphale hated people buying his books, but he didn’t hate those who only wanted to talk about them. In fact, he quite enjoyed spending time with anyone even nearly as enthusiastic about the written word as himself, and people were VERY enthusiastic about Tolkien since Peter Jackson had made his adaptations of The Lord of the Rings. The third film had been released less than a month prior, and Crowley had taken him to see it on opening night. It was as spectacular as the first two, and Aziraphale was inspired to celebrate Tolkien Day at his shop - just this once. Caterers were supplying a feast fit for a king (or an extended family of hungry Hobbits), copies of all Tolkien’s published works had been acquired for customers to purchase (his first editions were safely under lock and key - NOBODY was getting their hands on those), and Crowley had promised to help him create a fireworks display worthy of Gandalf to end the evening.

Unfortunately - due to the store's convoluted opening hours and Aziraphale's tendency to chase people out the door - nobody except Crowley and the caterers actually showed up. Crowley's appetite for food would be considered small at best, and Aziraphale despaired at the wastage - until Crowley suggested inviting the local homeless community to share a meal together. Both angel and demon focussed their thoughts, and those in need of a hearty meal suddenly found themselves inspired to go for a walk, discovering A.Z. Fell & Co. as they meandered through Soho. 

Some who joined the feast had never read Tolkien, whilst others had been fans since childhood. As they mingled they shared their own stories, often interwoven with those they had read or heard over the years, and it struck Aziraphale (not for the first time in his long life) how story could unite people who at first glance had very little in common - much like Crowley and himself. Their own shared history was a scrapbook of moments they'd stolen together, starting on the wall of Eden and snaking through history, known only to the two of them. Neither Heaven nor Hell would look fondly on the tale, and humanity would assume it was fiction, but to Aziraphale it was perhaps the greatest story never written. 

Fifteen years later he would discover that Crowley felt the same way, and they would begin a new chapter together - better than any which had preceded it.

~~~

**February**  
_14th February 2020 - Valentine’s Day_

Crowley awoke on Valentine’s morning to the sound of singing. It took him a moment to place the song Aziraphale was harmonising with - surprised to discover one barely more than 30 years old, which Crowley himself had never played in the angel’s presence. He rose, and went out to the living room. 

“Since when are you familiar enough with John Farnham to sing along, Angel?” Crowley asked.  
“Do you remember in about 1990 or so, I had a neighbour who played nothing but Australian music because she was homesick?” Aziraphale replied.  
“Vaguely.”  
“She played the album this song was on quite a bit. One day I really listened to the lyrics, and something about it spoke to me. This morning I finally realised why, so I did a Google search, and I found the song on YouTube, and I turned on the speakers, and I did the Bluetooth so the music would go through them… and then you came out here because I woke you up. I’m so sorry my dear, I didn’t realise I had it up too loud.”  
“That’s alright Angel. You sing so beautifully, it was worth it. Plus I’m proud of you - getting over your fear of modern technology!”  
“I’ve never been afraid of it Crowley - I dislike it, there’s a difference.”  
“Well I’m glad you’re getting over your dislike of modern technology then. You said you finally realised why the song spoke to you, though. Care to share with me?”  
“It could be about us. I couldn’t say it thirty years ago, but I loved you even then. And this morning I was thinking of all the songs I’ve heard over the years that could have been written by us, and I remembered that one.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and kissed him.  
“So you want to touch me, huh?” he teased.  
“Over and over and over again,” Aziraphale retorted.  
“Mmmm, which of us is leading the other astray, do you think?”  
“I think we lead each other astray about equally - wouldn’t you agree, dear?”  
“You might be right about that. Care to be led, and come back to bed with me?” Crowley asked as he nuzzled Aziraphale’s jawline.  
Aziraphale hummed with delight and caught Crowley’s lips in another kiss. “I think I could be tempted.”

Several hours later they re-emerged, and Crowley took his angel to the Ritz for lunch. In the Bentley on the way back to the bookshop, Aziraphale very nearly caused their mutual discorporation when he spontaneously proposed. Swiftly parking the car and turning off the engine, the flustered demon turned and scolded him for three reasons. Firstly, you should never propose to someone operating heavy machinery (ESPECIALLY not a vintage car that’s already been destroyed once). Secondly, you should never propose to someone without getting down on one knee. And finally, you should never propose to someone who intends on proposing to you about 5 minutes hence. 

Needless to say, they were engaged moments later, and it was the first of many a happy Valentine’s day, together at last.

~~~

**March**  
_17th March 1999 - Saint Patrick's Day_

It was very different from London, but any city in celebratory mode will remind you at least a little of others - and though Dublin was a riot of green unmatched by any sight Aziraphale had seen since Eden, it reminded him strongly of home. It didn’t remind Crowley of London at all, but as a demon he did tend to see things rather differently, not least because his snakey eyes didn’t work in quite the same way. He was also thoroughly sloshed on Guinness, whilst Aziraphale was more-or-less sober. One of them needed to be, at least until they found their hotel, which seemed to have vanished into the ether.

Aziraphale finally found somebody clear-headed enough to give directions, and a few minutes later they were there. They’d decided to share a suite, with Crowley the sole occupant needing a bed - but it suddenly seemed too small to Aziraphale when the demon threw an arm around his shoulders.  
“I love Ireland!” he exclaimed loudly, swaying with much more than his usual swagger.  
“I love Ireland too, dear. Perhaps you ought to sober up a little though.”  
“P’aps you should get drunker, Angel. G’on. I dare you t’ get hammer...slosh...maggot.”  
“Don’t bother turning your wiles on me. It’s not going to work when you’re too drunk to talk properly.”  
“Ang’l, I don’ wan’ t’ sober up.”

Aziraphale huffed in disgust, dragged the barely-conscious demon to the bed, lay him on it with a minimum of care, and stalked back to the living room, where he took up a book and attempted to read. This was SUPPOSED to be a fun weekend, with a couple of minor blessings and temptings, and then prematurely celebrating next month’s 50th anniversary of Ireland’s status as a republic. Instead he had a best friend who’d become blackout drunk faster than the angel had ever seen, and he didn’t even know why it had happened. There was always a reason when Crowley took things too far, and it was usually because he was deeply troubled by something. It wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism, and had Crowley been human, Aziraphale would have staged an intervention. As it was, he knew the demon would wake in the morning, his usual self restored, and things would carry on normally. It still worried him though.

Sure enough, a dozen hours later, Crowley emerged, grumpy but sober.  
“Why didn’t you take my shoes off, Angel?”  
“If you’d sobered up when I asked you to, you could have taken your own shoes off.”  
Crowley huffed.  
“Want to tell me what last night was all about?” Aziraphale asked.  
“Not really. You want to go do the tour of Dublin Castle?”  
“Yes, please. Lunch first though?”  
“Yeah alright Angel. I reckon I probably owe you one.”

Twenty years later, Crowley would finally admit the reason for his behaviour on Saint Patrick’s Day, and Aziraphale would blush to hear it. I’m sure you can guess what it was.

~~~

**April**  
_20th April 2014 - Easter Sunday_

“Crowley. PSST. Crowley.”  
Crowley stirred, feeling someone gently nudging his arm.  
“Crowley, for Heaven’s sake, please wake up!”  
“Mmm sleeping. Go ‘way.”  
“Crowley if you don’t wake up in the next two minutes, Warlock will see you in this state, and I WILL NOT be held responsible for explaining why his Nanny is missing and you’re asleep in her bed.”  
“Wha’ you on ‘bout, ‘Ziraphale?”  
“It is Easter Sunday morning and YOU promised Warlock an egg hunt. The sun is up, the spawn of Satan will be here momentarily, and YOU are presently a man-shaped being wearing nothing but satin boxer shorts, in the bed of his Nanny, who is nowhere to be found. GET! UP!”

Crowley turned his head and blinked blearily at the angel, before finally coming to full consciousness, standing up, and swiftly snapping his (now thankfully _her_) fingers. Nanny Ashtoreth stood before Brother Francis in her usual proper dress, glaring at him as though being woken moments before discovery was somehow his fault rather than her own. Seconds later, a knock came at the door.  
“Nanny? Nanny are you up? Is it time for the egg hunt?”  
Nanny Ashtoreth opened the door and looked fondly down at her charge.  
“Yes dearie, let us go and find the eggs Brother Francis has so kindly hidden for us. And then we can have chocolate on our waffles for breakfast.”

Twenty minutes later they found Brother Francis in the kitchen - a platter piled high with freshly made waffles, a small saucepan of melted chocolate ready to be poured, and a bowl of chopped strawberries to pair with them. Warlock and Brother Francis gorged themselves on the breakfast treats, while Nanny nibbled contentedly at a strawberry or two.  
“Thank you for hiding the eggs and making breakfast Brother Francis,” Warlock said when he’d had his fill.  
“You’re most welcome, young Master Warlock. You run along and brush your teeth now, then wish your parents a Happy Easter.”  
Hugging each of them in turn, Warlock said “Happy Easter Brother Francis, Happy Easter Nanny Ashtoreth,” before running upstairs to find his parents (he made sure to skip brushing his teeth).

Brother Francis smiled sadly at Nanny Ashtoreth and asked “do you remember him?”  
“Christ, you mean? Yeah. Gave him the grand tour of the world. Was supposed to be a temptation - see if I could get him to back out of his fate - but my heart wasn’t in it.”  
“You never told me that.”  
“Lots of things I’ve never told you, Angel.”  
“Maybe one day you will?”  
“Maybe.”

One day - some five and a bit years later - they would share all of their remaining secrets.

~~~

**May**  
_5th May 2012 - Cinco de Mayo_

They were at the last Mexican restaurant of the day - FINALLY! Aziraphale had decided to mark the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Puebla with a Mexican feast, and Crowley agreed to tag along - _before_ it was revealed that the angel intended to sample dishes at five different locations. First had been chilaquiles - before quesadillas, followed by birria con tostada, then enchilada. The final course was obviously dessert, which (thank and praise the proprietor!) was a tasting platter - meaning that Aziraphale was under no obligation to make a decision, and could simply have one of everything. 

Flan, polvorones, pastel de tres leches, churros con cajeta, empanadas, conchas - Crowley gave up trying to keep track when Aziraphale raved about how delicious _everything_ was. The demon had opted to try a different beverage at each restaurant (just to keep things interesting,) and was trying to decide which was his favourite of paloma, horchata, carajillo, and the obligatory margarita. He’d settled on a champurrado as his answer to dessert, and Aziraphale was eyeing it off with envy - never mind that he could easily have ordered one of his own. 

When the last morsel was gone, Aziraphale wiped his mouth with the napkin, and sat back with a contented wiggle, resting his clasped hands on his belly - which was presumably full after his gastronomic efforts of the past several hours.  
“Thank you for indulging me today Crowley - it was very kind of you to drive me from restaurant to restaurant. I know you were a little surprised this morning when I mentioned all of the destinations.”  
“I was, rather - though I’m not sure why. You visited Paris during the Reign of Terror because you got peckish - five restaurants within London city to celebrate Cinco de Mayo is nothing compared to that.”  
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you my dear?”  
“Nope,” he answered, popping the p and grinning broadly.  
“Well I still appreciate you playing the chauffeur.”  
“You know me Angel - any excuse to take the Bentley for a spin.”

What Crowley _didn’t_ say was that he’d jump at any excuse to spend time with Aziraphale - no matter the duration or destination. Being in love with one’s best friend can present challenges even for us mere mortals, but when a relationship has meandered its way through six millennia, the things left unsaid can pile up rather high - and they had a veritable Everest between them - or perhaps a Great Wall of Unspoken.

A little over seven years later all of their walls would come tumbling down, and their words would lay the foundation of a future that each considered well worth the wait.

~~~

**June **  
_29th June 2013 - London Pride Parade_

Unlike Crowley, Aziraphale never went through a hippy phase - but as an angel he was a being of love, and proud to fight for the rights of others to express theirs. Naturally, that meant participating in the Stonewall riots of 1969, and more recently, marching in the London Pride parade. Every June he put pride flags in the windows of his shop, and as new flags of representation were created he made sure to include them all. He was especially excited this time around, with Parliament in the final stages of a Bill to amend the marriage act, allowing same-sex couples to tie the knot. It wasn’t a law that was likely to ever affect him personally - given that the only person he truly loved was a demon unable to walk comfortably on hallowed ground - but he believed that equal rights for all were important.

Crowley marched with him every year without fail, and had been by his side at Stonewall too, despite the “you go too fast for me” incident two years prior. Crowley had also taken him to see Hair! at the Shaftesbury Theatre in 1968, and Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In had been one of the records in the jukebox at Stonewall. Forty-four years later it was still one of his favourite songs from the era, no doubt due to the memories attached, and he’d decided to play the original Broadway cast recording from the musical as he waited for Crowley to arrive.

His enjoyment of the album was such that he didn’t hear the Bentley pull up outside, the jangle of the bell as his shop door opened, or Crowley’s voice until he finally stood in front of the angel and shouted.  
“Are we still going to the parade, or are we hanging out here blasting 60s vinyl all day? I really don’t mind either way, but if it’s the former, we need to get moving.”  
Aziraphale checked his watch and started.  
“Oh! Crowley! I’d lost all track of time. Yes, still going to the parade. Just let me…”  
He moved to the record player and lifted the needle, then put the old album back into its slipcase for safekeeping. Straightening his bowtie, he walked to the door and said “shall we, my dear?”

They caught the bus to Marylebone, it being more convenient than other options - barring a miracle which might raise questions from their respective head offices. They met up with the crowd only moments before the parade was due to start, and walked to Whitehall at a comfortable pace. The sense of hope and joy was infectious, an atmosphere Aziraphale especially enjoyed. The party continued through the remainder of the day, until finally the angel and demon strolled back to Soho, where they put their feet up and enjoyed each other's company in peace and quiet.

Eight-and-a-half months later, the first same-sex marriages would take place across England and Wales. Another 9 months after that, the same would happen in Scotland. May 2015 would see the law change in the Republic of Ireland, and in 2020 it would finally be Northern Ireland’s turn, as well as their own - when they’d decide on a garden wedding to spare Crowley’s feet.

~~~

**July**  
_14th July 1989 - Bastille Day_

🎶 _Non, rien de rien _  
_Non, je ne regrette rien _  
_Car ma vie, car mes joies _  
_Aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi!!!!!!! _ 🎶 

Crowley absolutely belted the last few words of the song, gesticulating wildly, then collapsed on Aziraphale’s couch in his usual sprawl. They’d spent hours reminiscing over their particular experience of the Bastille, the revolution it had been part of, and the crêpes they’d enjoyed after Crowley’s rescue of the angel. They’d made some together earlier in the day - not so fine as those made by experts in Paris, but almost as enjoyable for the novelty of being home-made - and were now several bottles deep into the champagne.

“Do you have any regrets, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked blearily.  
“Yeah, but I think we all do, wouldn’t you say, Angel?”  
“I can’t speak for everyone, but I know I do.”  
“What’s your worst one then? Giving away the sword?” Crowley prodded.  
“Not at all! We might never have become friends if I hadn’t done that - and besides, Adam and Eve needed it more than I did. What about yours - the Fall?”  
“Nah, can’t regret that. May not like Hell much, but I wouldn’t be posted down here if I was an angel, would I? Wouldn’t need both of us.”  
“No, I suppose not. So what’s one of yours? Doesn’t have to be the biggest if that’s too hard to talk about. Something small you wish you could have done differently.”  
“Well that’s easier. I wish I could go back and tell the powers that be that I had nothing to do with the Spanish Inquisition, the Reign of Terror, or either of the World Wars. It was convenient at the time, but eventually I hated getting commendations for those.”  
Crowley sighed deeply and took another generous swallow of champagne.

Aziraphale looked at the demon fondly. He enjoyed mischief and mayhem, but he wasn’t actually evil. It really was no wonder at all that the angel loved him. Sadly, that was Aziraphale’s greatest regret - that he loved him deeply but was too afraid of Heaven’s wrath to act on it - and he couldn’t confess it to Crowley. So he grinned cheekily and said “I think my greatest regret is not having crêpes more often.”  
Crowley rolled his golden eyes and smirked.  
“If I didn’t know you better I might think you were serious. I know there’s something bigger than a lack of crêpes though Angel. One day you’ll tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine. It might take a LOT more alcohol than this, but someday…”  
“Someday,” Aziraphale agreed.

Someday came around, a solid 30 years later. They shared all their regrets, their fears, and their love. And a generous serving of crêpes.

~~~

**August**  
_30 August 2010 - The Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo_

The pipes started with a drone, and Crowley winced. “I can’t believe you talked me into wearing a kilt for this, Angel - and in your personal tartan, no less!”  
“Well who else’s tartan would you wear, my dear? Hell doesn’t have one, it’d be insulting to wear Heaven’s, and you don’t belong to a Clan.”  
“Oi! Why would it be insulting for me to wear Heaven’s tartan? I do some of their blessings, as you well know!”  
“Insulting to YOU, not to THEM,” Aziraphale said, trying to placate the demon at his side.  
“Oh. Right. Well. Still can’t believe you talked me into a kilt. I’m all in favour of men wearing skirts, but going commando underneath is…”  
“Is traditional!”  
“I know that, but… I dunno, with the breeze it’s a bit of a risk.”  
“That’s one of the reasons for the sporran. It’s not just for carrying things around, it helps protect your modesty - not that you normally seem to worry about that very much, with your skin-tight pants.”  
“My skin-tight pants aren’t in any danger of exposing anything I don’t want exposed though, Angel. That’s the difference. I choose what’s on display, not the breeze!”

The man at Crowley’s other side shushed them, and Crowley turned to glare.  
“What? You can’t hear the HUNDREDS OF BAGPIPES over our voices?”  
Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s arm and gave a quelling look, clearly communicating “do not start a fight with a Scotsman whilst sounding like an Englishman, in the heart of Scotland - you are surrounded by Scots, and I do not want to see you discorporated with a sgian-dubh”. Crowley subsided, and was slowly won over by the general atmosphere. The Queen had granted the Royal title to the Edinburgh Military Tattoo for its Diamond Jubilee, and the mood was unquestionably one of celebration. 

When leaving the castle hours later the breeze caught Crowley’s kilt, and blew it up at the back - exposing his pert rear end. A passerby whistled in appreciation.  
Crowley turned on Aziraphale and said “so much for the sporran saving my modesty!”  
“It did its job just fine - nobody saw the front.”  
“They saw the back though!”  
“Evidently they liked what they saw. Think of it as an accidental temptation, if it makes you feel any better.”  
“An ACCIDENTAL temptation?!” Crowley asked incredulously.  
“Certainly. I have no doubt that your admirer is now thinking all manner of sinful thoughts, with no deliberate effort on your part whatsoever.”  
“And what about you, Angel? Are you thinking sinful thoughts about my backside?”  
“Not at all. I didn’t see it,” he answered, smirking.

Nine years later he’d develop a very fine appreciation for all of Crowley’s parts, including those protected by his sporran - and those which were not.

~~~

**September**  
_19 September 1993 - The Vote!_

In September 1893, New Zealand became the first country to give women the right to vote. At the time, Aziraphale and Crowley had debated whether the women’s suffrage movement would eventually yield more benefit for Heaven or Hell. A century later the debate was taken up again.

“I think we have to call it a draw, Angel,” Crowley said, after they’d gone back and forth for hours, trying to determine all the pros and cons for either side.  
“I think you may be right, my dear,” Aziraphale answered with a sigh. “I had hoped it would be a resounding success for my side, but even now there’s still so much pushback. How can men be so obstinate in keeping women’s rights suppressed?”  
“Have you not been paying attention all these centuries, Aziraphale? Weak men want to suppress anyone they think might defeat them - whether it’s women, the poor, people who aren’t white…”

Crowley tossed back the remainder of the whiskey in his glass, and poured another. Aziraphale sighed and sipped at his own, contemplating the truth in the demon’s words. He was right of course, more was the pity. They’d both seen it countless times throughout history - and prehistory, come to that. The Fall had essentially been a suppression tactic, and sooner or later Heaven would have to face up to an opponent very much their equal - just as men would eventually have to come to terms with women. He hoped that women would prevail without a war against all mankind, though he held little hope of the same for Heaven and Hell. Theirs was an inevitable fate, and he dreaded the day he and Crowley would be forced to face each other on the battlefield.

“Maybe we should reassess it in another hundred years?” Aziraphale suggested.  
“You think another hundred years will change a dynamic that’s been going on since there were enough people for one of them to realise they liked having power over others?” Crowley countered.  
“Well, no, but we might be able to see if universal suffrage is working in Heaven’s favour or Hell’s by then. Plenty of countries were well behind New Zealand in granting it, after all.”  
“Alright Angel, in 2093 we’ll sit down and have another look at it. I’ll even offer you a wager. If everyone having the right to vote is working in favour of Heaven, I’ll do all your blessings for a year. If it’s working in favour of Hell, you do all my temptations.”  
“And if it’s still a dead heat?”  
“Then we reassess in 2193.”  
“Deal.”

Twenty-six years later, when Armageddon was thwarted and the War to End All Wars didn’t happen, their wager would become null and void. They’d still reopen the debate in 2093 - but I can’t tell you what conclusion they reached, if any.

~~~

**October**  
_31st October 2015 - Halloween _

“Naaaaaannyyyyyy!” Warlock called, as he came in from the garden.  
“Yes, Warlock?” she answered, meeting him in the hallway.  
“Will you dress up for Halloween this year? Pleeeeeeease?”  
“Why would I dress up for Halloween, Hellspawn?”  
“To go trick-or-treating with me. Brother Francis has already promised that he will if you do.”  
“Has he now? What is Brother Francis dressing up as?”  
“Brother Francis is going to be THE DEVIL, Nanny!” Warlock answered gleefully.  
Nanny Ashtoreth’s eyes widened and her eyebrows flew into her hairline, as she grinned rather devilishly herself.  
“Will you be an angel, please Nanny? You can be the angel on my shoulder, telling me not to do what the devil says - just like you and Brother Francis do all the time!”

Whilst Crowley might have found this suggestion upsetting from any other source, Warlock’s innocent pleading tugged firmly on Nanny Ashtoreth’s heartstrings, and she assented readily. And so it was that the 6-year-old (presumed) Antichrist had an angel dressed as the devil, and a demon dressed as an angel, accompany him on Halloween. Nanny and Brother Francis bickered happily the entire time, getting into their roles and being utterly ridiculous - ensuring that Warlock was greeted with smiles and full-sized confectionery at every door he visited. Upon their return home they sat either side of his bed, swapping stories about vampires and werewolves, witches and wizards, ghosts and ghouls. Then Nanny told a particularly frightening tale about the angels who fell from heaven to become demons, and the tortures they suffered. Brother Francis cried, and Warlock held his hand, telling him it was OK, it was just a story - but he wasn’t comforted until Nanny held his hand also.

When Warlock finally fell asleep they walked outside together, and Crowley asked Aziraphale if he’d like to join him for a drink. After several glasses of very good wine, the demon (still dressed as an angel) lurched upright, and put Queen’s A Night At The Opera on the record player.  
“You know it’s 40 years today since Bohemian Rhapsody was released, Angel?”  
“Really, Crowley dear?”  
“Yup. They had a fight on their hands to make it a single, but they won in the end. Radio DJs everywhere immediately loved it because it’s long enough for a loo break. Took critics a bit longer to come around, but the fans still adore it.”  
“And you’re one of those fans.”  
“Of course I am! I’m the devil Beelzebub put aside for Freddie!”  
“Oh, don’t be absurd!” Aziraphale scoffed.  
“Not being absurd. Ugh. You still have no idea how Hell works, do you?”  
“Thankfully, no,” the angel said primly, and settled in to enjoy the rest of the album. 

Three and a half years later he’d have a much better idea - and Crowley would finally understand how preferable that was, compared with what Heaven had become.

~~~

**November **  
_11th November 2018 - Remembrance Day _

As the sounds of the bugle died out, Aziraphale stood facing the cenotaph, musing on a very different war from those which the humans surrounding him reflected upon. They remembered those who had fought for their freedom, most especially those who had served and died in WWI, given its end a century earlier. Aziraphale often recalled Crowley’s rescue of him from Nazis in WWII with fondness, but at this particular memorial service his mind was occupied with a war older than time itself.

The Choirs of Angels had been torn in two - divided into the Faithful and the Fallen - and as a Principality, Aziraphale had been expected to command a battalion. He was a most reluctant soldier, and though he did his duty, he took no joy in it as Sandalphon and others had done. He had no desire to smite, and avoided doing so whenever he could. Any angel who fell by his sword did so only to avoid his own destruction, and he still felt the guilt for those deaths more than 6000 years later. Eventually his battalion had surrounded a group of the Fallen, and he’d given them the choice: go willingly, or be destroyed. All but one had taken his offer, and fled. The one who remained was swiftly dispatched by Aziraphale’s most eager Lieutenant before Aziraphale had the chance to persuade them to also depart.

Aziraphale had not faced the angel who would eventually be known as Crowley, but other battalions had followed his lead and given their foe the opportunity to remain unslain - and it was this ripple effect which saved Crowley’s life. Crowley had no knowledge of which angel had first made the offer, but he knew it was not any of the Archangels - their fury at the escape of so many Fallen proved that unequivocally. He gave silent thanks to the angel of mercy, and vowed that if he ever discovered their identity, he would do all in his power to return the favour.

They never discussed that war. If they had, Crowley would have realised that God had taken him at his word, though unspoken - and Aziraphale would have known precisely how long Crowley’s devotion had been lain at his feet. As it was, Aziraphale knew only that his decision had saved the lives of many angels who became demons. An action which had its own consequences, not all of them good - but he could not have gone against his conscience and slain those who merely questioned the Almighty. Aziraphale had questions of his own, and he knew that his Fall had only been prevented by not voicing them.

As the humans moved off to go about their day, Crowley walked up to stand beside the angel.  
“You think they’ll ever end for good?” he asked.  
Aziraphale turned to look at his best friend of so many years, unshed tears in his eyes the only reply.  
“No, I don’t think so either, Angel. But I hope we’re wrong.”

Less than six months later they would help to prevent yet another bloody war from coming to fruition, and hope would prevail another day.

~~~

**December**  
_24th December 1994 - Christmas Eve_

🎶 _Angels we have heard on high_  
_Sweetly singing o’er the plains_  
_And the mountains in reply_  
_Echoing their joyous strains_  
_Gloria in excelsis Deo!_  
_Gloria in excelsis Deo!_ 🎶

Crowley had always wondered why the hymnals just said “Gloria”, rather than the far more accurate “Glor- or-or-or-or-or- or-or-or-or-or- or-or-or-or-oria”, but he supposed it was probably out of respect for God, or something. He wasn’t sitting inside the cathedral - but then, neither were 100 other people including Aziraphale - freezing their butts off because there wasn’t room at the proverbial inn. The children performing the nativity had passed by him earlier, and he’d used a small miracle to ensure none of them caught a chill. They shouldn’t suffer on Christmas morning just because the bishop wanted everyone to see the Archangel Gabriel reassuring Mary. 

The girl playing Gabriel was a surprise - not least because they’d chosen a girl for the role. With Aziraphale’s chubby cheeks and fluffy curls, and his own flaming red hair, she looked like their love child - if such a thing could exist. She wore glasses with bifocal lenses (“quite young to be needing those, the poor dear,” Aziraphale had whispered) but spoke confidently, projecting her voice so that everyone could hear. She was in fact FAR more reassuring to the nativity’s Mary than the real Gabriel had been to the Mother of God’s only begotten Son - of that Crowley had no doubt.

When Mass ended the congregation swarmed together, giving each other hugs, kisses, cards, and gifts - wishing each other Merry Christmas, Happy Christmas, Joyeux Noel, Feliz Navidad - he even heard Blessed Yule and Happy Hanukkah, though those were rarer, given the location of the gathering. All were praising the children for their performances, and Aziraphale gave each of them a blessing - especially little Gabriel, whose lack of coordination was in danger of sealing her doom if she landed on a patch of ice.

The mingling of people who wouldn’t usually have much to do with each other - and in some cases utterly despised each other under normal circumstances, as he could easily sense - reminded Crowley of Christmas eighty years earlier, when foes put down their weapons and sang carols together despite no official truce. He admired the tenacity of those soldiers in WWI, and wondered whether they’d prayed for a swift resolution to the war. If they had, their prayers were certainly left unanswered - much like his own. Christmas was a time of joy for most, but the only joy it gave Crowley was the time he spent with Aziraphale. He wrapped his new scarf more snuggly around his neck, and offered the angel a ride home. He needed to curl up by the fire and defrost for a while, and he knew Aziraphale would invite him in. The bookshop was like its owner - warm and cosy, and full of Christmas cheer. 

Twenty-five years later, it would be his home, too.

~~~

**Bonus scene - July again**  
_20 July 2019 - to the moon and back_

_“That’s one small step for man. One giant leap for mankind.”_

Iconic words for an iconic moment in human history, and Crowley still teared up whenever he heard them. He didn’t generally consider himself a sentimental being, but as a starmaker he held an enduring fondness for all things space-related, and the moon landing fifty years prior was by far his favourite moment of all those not spent with Aziraphale. The angel had declined his invitation to go to America together in the summer of 1969, but Crowley had been wholly unable to resist the temptation, and gone alone - a decision he never regretted. It was rare for humans to tempt a demon (given that the roles are usually reversed) so to be swept up in their enthusiasm had been a novel sensation, and one he enjoyed thoroughly.

Humans had since built the International Space Station and landed four rovers on Mars - amongst the many things launched into or beyond Earth’s orbit. The final transmission from the Opportunity rover the previous June was fondly interpreted as “my battery is low and it’s getting dark”. The actual datastream had not included any such phrase, but humanity’s tendency to anthropomorphise even the most mundane of objects was one of the things Crowley loved best about them. The photos of Pluto’s surface sent back from the New Horizons probe had delighted the demon, as had those of Jupiter from Juno (a particularly apt name for the spacecraft, given its mission), and Crowley quite liked 2016 as a result. 

Since then Armageddon had been averted, he and Aziraphale had confessed their feelings for one another, and the demon was happier than he’d been at any time since before the Fall. Now it was the fiftieth anniversary of the first moon landing, and he was back in the USA - this time with the angel at his side. They visited both Kennedy Space Center in Florida, and Space Center Houston in Texas - exploring every exhibit and participating in every experience. Aziraphale was astounded at Crowley’s boundless enthusiasm - he’d never quite realised how passionate the demon was on the topic of space, though his determination to escape the apocalypse in such a way really should have been a clue. 

Afterwards they took the opportunity to visit American booksellers in possession of rare tomes Aziraphale coveted, giving Crowley a chance to wind down (and Aziraphale a chance to recover) after their exuberant tours before heading home. Money being no object they flew first class, and both enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere as well as each other’s company. 

Crowley often wondered when humanity would venture beyond their own solar system, given that the space race had become more of a crawl in recent times, but he had no doubt that someday they would. When they did, he intended to follow them - and finally show his beloved angel the sights of Alpha Centauri.

**Author's Note:**

> **Playlist:**
> 
> January: [Edge of Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jY9dQ8hUi7U) \- Pippin, LOTR The Return of the King  
February: [Two Strong Hearts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yWNb8UeXnZo) \- John Farnham  
March: [I Know My Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uY-HU2Xh7PE) \- The Corrs & The Chieftains  
April: [City of God](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLBQEUauY-I) \- Dan Schutte  
May: [Corazon Espinado](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6omUxqhG78) \- Santana & Maná  
June: [Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06X5HYynP5E) \- The 5th Dimension, from Hair! the musical  
July: [Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6wjCcWC2aE) \- Édith Piaf  
August: [Massed Pipes and Drums](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENvSAxP5JOw) \- 2010 Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo  
September: [Give The Ballot to the Mothers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6YxEnPyQS8) \- Elizabeth Knight  
October: [Bohemian Rhapsody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ9rUzIMcZQ) \- Queen  
November: [The Last Post](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=McCDWYgVyps) and [Reveille](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_peXjzFQ2_c)  
December: [Angels We Have Heard On High](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7MTjm6UYYA)  
July again: [Fly Me To The Moon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEcqHA7dbwM) \- Frank Sinatra
> 
> **Notes:**
> 
> January - the third is not only J.R.R. Tolkien’s birthday, it’s also my parents’ wedding anniversary. I really love Tolkien’s books, and the LOTR movies - I went to Hobbiton in 2015, and I’m going back in 2020.
> 
> February - I ship these two so hard, I just HAD to give them their moment.
> 
> March - I have Irish ancestry on Mum’s side, so St Paddy’s was an obvious choice. 
> 
> April - again, Easter was an obvious choice, and putting it in the Warlock era narrowed down the years nicely.
> 
> May - I’ve never actually had the opportunity to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, but I think we can all agree that Aziraphale would find any excuse for a feast.
> 
> June - the representation in Good Omens definitely lends itself to Pride, so this was an easy pick. Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In really was one of the records on the jukebox at Stonewall Inn when the riots happened.
> 
> July - Aziraphale’s love of crêpes positively SCREAMED Bastille Day...but with Crowley’s love of space, the moon landing called out to me as well. Given that July is my birthday month, I decided to treat myself and write both.
> 
> August - I have Scottish blood on my Dad’s side, so the Tattoo was another easy decision.
> 
> September - the only month without anything obvious, I did a Google search for significant events, and lo and behold, there was the success of women’s suffrage in New Zealand. Our neighbours to the east have led the way on some important things over the years, and that’s one of the big ones. Give The Ballot to the Mothers is an actual suffrage era song.
> 
> October - This is what got me started on this fic in the first place. All I wanted to write was a little Halloween ficlet, but me being me it totally snowballed, and here we are with monthly vignettes.
> 
> November - Remembrance Day (Veterans Day in the USA) is personally significant for so very many of us, myself included. Aziraphale is a reluctant soldier, but even reluctant soldiers can change the tide of a war (especially when they’re an angel whose best friend of 6 millennia is a demon capable of pausing time itself).
> 
> December - The red-headed angel with glasses is both a self-insert and a nod to my niece at the same time - I was an angel for our church’s nativity in 1994, and she was Gabriel last year. She would undoubtedly be more reassuring for Mary than the Gabriel Aziraphale and Crowley know and loathe (and I probably would be too, at that). As Aussies, the only ice at Christmas is in our drinks...and maybe the Esky (cooler/ice box/chilly bin). Fly Me To The Moon was the first song played on the lunar surface.


End file.
